


Safety Within his Arms

by JeromeSankara



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Fireworks, Flashbacks, Fourth of July, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rickyl Writers' Group, Triggers, Veterans, safe room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 17:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/pseuds/JeromeSankara
Summary: Daryl has been home for a while now, back to his loving husband Rick and their son Carl. But the Fourth of July has always brought an enemy that can strike at any moment without warning, and for a veteran, it always brings back the worst of memories.





	Safety Within his Arms

It started early this year.

Sometimes they were able to slip into the first days of July before the symptoms surfaced. The nights would go easy, save for a twitch or a grumble now and then, but would be rather harmless.

This time it started a solid week before July even began.

It had been a quiet morning in the suburb, and Daryl had been out in the yard tending to the garden. It wasn't much, a few Cherokee Roses, marigolds, and the start of a cherry blossom tree that Rick had insisted on trying, but it was enough of a distraction for this time of year.

Rick had been inside washing dishes, humming along to the radio and lost in thought. They were going to have a BBQ tomorrow, something of a get together of those that lived around them. Michonne had been nearly begging for Daryl to make his special deer burgers. Tara and Denise would come, Lori and Shane would bring their little Judith, Jessie would bring her two sons...

It would mark one year since Daryl had returned, a celebration of being together again. A few beers, plenty of food, watch the kids play, it would be just like old times.

Then came the slamming of the back screen door and the pounding of feet as they disappeared down into the basement. Even with the door being just a room away, he wasn't able to catch the fleeing form before the basement door was brutally closed as well.

"Sam, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" was the shout that echoed outside, and a cold stone dropped into his stomach.

The plate sank to the bottom of the sudsy water, and careful steps started down the stairs to the locked basement door. There was no response on the other side, and there wouldn't be for the rest of the night.

Not even Carl could manage to bribe the door open, asking if Daryl wanted to go to the lake and get away from the suburb. Instead he too walked back up the stairs with his shoulders slouched and his eyes on the ground.

All it took was a firecracker accidentally thrown too far, landing into the yard mere feet away from him.

That afternoon, Rick had to dig through the boxes stored in the garage, only to return to the front yard. With a hammer, he knelt down just outside the white picket fence and stuck the sign into the ground. He couldn't help but pause to read the words on the red, white and blue sign, even as it sent a new level of sick through his body.

_Combat Veteran Lives Here_  
_Please Be Courteous with Fireworks_

Passing a glance around as if to make sure none could witness him placing the sign, just in case he could manage to sneak it past Daryl that it existed at all, he begrudgingly reached his hand into his pocket and slipped out his phone.

Another party cancelled, another hour of spreading the word, and another six of receiving replies demanding for a reason why. At least some were understanding and simply replied with their hopes for Daryl to feel better soon. If only it was that simple.

It wasn't until supper the next day that the basement door opened, and to the naked eye, the day continued as if nothing had happened.

They sat down to a meal of pizza that Rick had ordered, half sausage and half pepperoni, and watched reruns of _Scrubs_ far into the evening. They flicked back and forth between that and a marathon of Disney movies before calling it a night close to nine. Rick had to get up early for his shift on the force, and Daryl had been nodding off halfway through _Wall-E_. Carl had taken up to his room not long after Rick managed to prod Daryl awake, with Daryl barely managing to mumble a 'good night' before Carl had slipped to his room.

It was a simple night for the two after that, a couple passing kisses as Rick went to lock the doors and Daryl getting ready for bed. By the time Rick had returned, Daryl was tucked into the blankets and already falling asleep. A lump welled up in his throat, but Rick ignored it the best that he could.

The magic number that night was four.

Four times Rick had woken up to Daryl twitching and growling in his sleep, and each time Daryl was unable to wake up. Rick could do very little but still tried, carefully pulling Daryl against his chest and waiting out the spasms and muffled words. Running his fingers through the long hair of his partner seemed to work the first time, but it just became worse throughout the night.

By morning, Rick was exhausted and Daryl not much better. There was no need to mention what had happened, as he knew by this point that Daryl would much rather be left alone. All he could do was leave a pot of coffee for his partner before leaving for work.

Shane already could feel the tension when they got in the squad car that morning and quietly took to the driver's seat. He already knew that Rick would be constantly checking his phone, awaiting messages even when he thought he was covering up the fact. Of course whenever they stopped, Rick would immediately tuck the phone into his back pocket to keep from being distracted, as if it would immediately take his mind off of his partner.

This would become routine every few days, when Daryl would be startled by the neighbor kids lighting firecrackers or even little noises around the house. There would be times where Rick would wake up to an empty bed, only to find Daryl in the kitchen going on his third cup of coffee.

Carl would send messages to Rick throughout the week, but the boy shouldn't have to worry about his father like that. He shouldn't have to be in his room with headphones connected to the TV to make sure that no noise would startle Daryl. Daryl shouldn't have to condem himself to the basement, a place that they had thought wouldn't need to be opened up again. Rick shouldn't have to take the keys to the gun cabinet and keep them on his person at all times, or worry that he would get the message from Carl that Daryl had locked himself into the bathroom again and refused to come out.

It wasn't fair to any of them.

By the time July 1st actually came, Rick had already asked for the next few days off. Carl had noticed Daryl's hands twitching again, his eyes glazing over, and he wouldn't eat. It hadn't been this bad for years, but they had to be ready at all times.

It was for these times that the little black furball that roamed their house came in handy.

Eyes in the Dark became a small source of comfort for Daryl when he couldn't dare ask for it himself. She would wind herself through his legs, bring him toy mice to play with, and even started to drag up random things around the house as gifts.

Of course one of those gifts happened to be a decapitated snake, but she still tried.

She of course hated the support animal vest that Rick had to put her in whenever they had to leave the house. She would growl and hiss, even scratched him a few times, but wouldn't show a tooth to Daryl. It was quite possible that the silent support of the black ball of cat was one of the thin wires that held Daryl from completely falling apart.

But Daryl noticed the looks. How could he not.

No one couldn't not notice the vested cat he wouldn't let touch the ground on their trips to the grocery store, having not seen the sight for what could have been years. They would murmur and whisper, and Rick's phone would get blasted with messages.

_"What happened to Daryl?"_  
_"Does he need anything?"_  
_"Is he going to be okay?"_  
_"How'd he get triggered this time?"_

And then there was the murmurs and snickers about the _'pussy needing a pussy'._

They barely made it to the third before all the thin support wires finally snapped.

They thought they were being funny. Thought that it was just a joke on someone who just seemed to not be enjoying the holiday.

It had taken all day to convince Daryl to go outside, with the promise that Rick and Carl would be outside with him. Eyes sat on the other side of the screendoor, pawing at the screen and giving quiet whines to be allowed outside, which distressed Daryl.

"She'll be fine, Daryl," Rick chuckled, knelt down into the dirt. He was trying to quietly remove the remains of snappers and crackers that had landed in the garden, while Carl was watering the flowers.

"But..." came the soft response from the man sitting on the doorstep, blue eyes locked onto the bright greens that seemed to stare into his soul.

"You know as well as I do that all she's going to do is eat the grass and puke it up on the carpet."

Another sigh came from the man, but he relented and joined Carl with the flowers. There had been a bit of a dry spell the last few days, and a few marigolds were wilting, but they would hopefully be nursed back to health.

"It's okay, Dad," Carl chirped in an attempt to brighten Daryl, glancing up at him with a wide smile. It was reassuring to see the two able to interact normally again, as Daryl's absense had been the worst for him.

When he would be off on deployment, it would leave Carl with what seemed to be only one half of a parent. Rick was almost constantly working, and contact with Daryl had been little at best... Eyes had been as much of a support to him as to Daryl, even.

"Maybe you should tell Dad to let us get a dog, too!"

A loud sigh came from Rick, but he couldn't hide the smile. That had been Carl's current plan for the summer, trying to convince his parents for, of all things, a Great Dane. A kid from his class had a German Shephard, and of course he had to have a dog even bigger than that...

The smile grew bigger as he heard the soft chuckle from his partner, followed by Carl's whine from Daryl ruffling his hair. "Keep trying, sport."

It was moments like these that made everything worth it... The long stretches of time apart, raising their boy, moving from the country to help Rick be closer to work... Everything was starting to come together again.

_"Bombs away!"_

_BANG BANG BABANG BANG!_

White flashes followed by puffs of black smoke peppered the lawn within moments as a handful of cherry bombs were tossed over the fence, barely able to hit the ground before exploding. It was far enough away from them to avoid damaging the flowers or themselves, but it made no difference.

Not as another load of the bulb fireworks were tossed over, raining down in another barrage, giving off bangs that made his ears feel like they were about to explode. But he didn't have the chance to even glance up to see who had dared to throw the fireworks into his lawn.

_"For fuck's sake, get down!"_

The weight slammed hard onto his back, throwing him face first into the Cherokee Roses that Daryl prized so much. They did little to soften the blow as Rick was pinned into the dirt, barely able to register the cry of bewilderment as Carl had been shoved down right beside him.

A large weight forced his head down, practically laying atop his body in an effort to shield him from the explosives that were at the other side of the yard. A hand grabbed him by the hair and pushed his face into the soil, nearly forcing him to swallow a mouthful.

The other hand had grabbed harshly onto his side, pushing him just enough to shove Carl beneath him. The action forced the hand to let go of his hair, and Rick managed to move his head just enough to see his darkest fears being realized.

The man holding him and his son to the ground wasn't Daryl any longer.

Blue eyes had turned glassy, no longer within the pleasant summers day, surrounded by green and calmness. As he stared down at Rick, there was no recognition. No realization to his husband being caught beneath his grasp, their son struggling to free himself from probable suffocation.

Daryl's face twisted to something Rick had never seen before, a coldness that froze his body coupled with what seemed to be horror. There was something that Rick couldn't see, something awful, something that made Daryl freeze.

His jaw clenched to the point that the corner of his lips were twitching, before baring his teeth. "You motherfuckers!" was the roar that nearly shook the earth, his gaze now staring at the boundary between him and his attackers.

"You're gonna fucking _pay_ , you filthy fucks!"

The voice became just as twisted as his expression, a roar filled with rage but anguish. The weight lifted off of Rick, scrambling across the dirt and keeping his stomach to the ground. He yanked out flowers that were within his way, clawing into the soil, before his hand wrapped around something.

By the time Daryl had rushed to his feet, Rick only just managed to get a glimpse at the dirty trowel within his hands, held like a knife. The man lunged at the barrier with no hesitation or thought for his own wellbeing. He grabbed onto the top of the picket fence and started to haul himself up, fully intent on throwing himself at their attackers.

_"Daryl, no!"_

It took precious time to scramble out of the dirt and to the fence, trying to grab his partner by the back of his shirt, but Daryl was too fast. It was then that he realized that there would be no convincing Daryl to back down, and the police training kicked in.

Rick all but vaulted himself over the fence, landing onto the grass on the other side, but his focus was entirely on the man that was running towards the two young boys. Ron and Sam still held unlit cherry bombs, their eyes wide and unable to move until Daryl had barreled himself into Ron. Of course he would go to the biggest threat, try to take out the enemy or as much as he could.

Ron's scream was still echoing through the quiet suburb as Daryl spat out curses, pinning Ron down to the ground. One hand was gripping at Ron's shoulder, an attempt to keep him still, while the other lifted the trowel high into the air, fully intent to kill those who threatened his troops.

"Die!" was the only word Daryl snarled out, his hand gripping the handle tighter then swinging down to end the pitiful life that had threatened his own.

Or it would have if Rick hadn't slammed himself into Daryl's side, causing him to splay out against the grass.

It took little time for Rick to pin Daryl onto his chest, forcing one arm behind his back while the other grabbed the wrist of the hand still clutching to his weapon.

"Daryl, drop it!" Rick commanded, but was answered with another snarl and violent thrashing beneath him. Daryl was trained for this, to fight off attackers. It may have worked if Rick didn't know exactly how to counter him.

The sudden attempt to buck him was halted with an elbow straight into his back, the rest of his weight collapsing down onto Daryl's back and legs. Every move that Daryl made was already met with Rick's defence, sickeningly mastered.

It may have been minutes of this battle, but Rick always won, even if it took nearly dislocating Daryl's shoulder to force him to release the trowel. All throughout the fight, Rick forced himself to keep talking. Even in this episode, he had to remember the basic rules.

Stay focused. Stay calm. Bring him back.

"Daryl, you're not there anymore. I'm right here. You're back home. Carl is right over there, I'm right here, Eyes is inside. She's waiting by the door. She wants to go outside and eat the grass."

It was nonsensical, but already he could feel the struggles start to weaken. Remind him of where he is, who is around, and what's happening. They were basic rules that he prayed would help. Already he knew he was breaking one of the basic rules of not touching the person, but there was no choice.

Already Rick could feel the eyes on him, of neighbors coming out of their homes to see what the chaos was, of Jessie rushing out to protect her sons, bystanders standing in shock to the attack. They couldn't risk more people seeing.

But there were already the voices.

"He was going to kill me!"

"Murderer!"

"He's a psycho! He's gone nuts!"

The glare that stabbed deep into Ron silenced the words, and it took every bit of restraint to keep from lashing out. All he knew was that he needed to get Daryl inside. Now. He was starting to come out of the lapse, and he would need none of this when he finally came to terms.

The movements beneath him were beginning to turn sluggish, his partner panting and shaking. The growls and swears had turned to grunts, but the sound that caught his attention was the fence door being opened.

Carl was standing at the opening, his smaller body shaking and his eyes wide as he stared down to his fathers struggling in the dirt.

With careful movements to prevent agitating Daryl even more and give him the thought of another attack, he pulled his weight off of Daryl and began to tug him up to his feet. With the trowel now abandoned to the ground, tossed a few feet away, Rick finally was able to release his wrist to instead focus on helping him up.

"Daryl, we're going inside," was the murmur that was a pathetic attempt to sooth his husband, a reaching over and pulling Daryl's face to meet his eyes and his eyes alone. "We're safe. You're safe. We're going inside. Going to go see Eyes. Going inside."

The blue eyes were still partially glazed, dulling with exhaustion, and he felt Daryl trying to turn his head, but Rick refused to relent. He refused to let Daryl see the witnesses, hear the voices, the accusations...

Because they only saw the broken man that lost control. Not the wounded warrior still trying to pull himself back together.

Pulling Daryl's head against his chest in an attempt to keep him from distraction, he started the achingly slow walk out of Jessie's yard, into their own, then leading him to the screen door. Carl had quickly locked the door behind him, giving no attention to their audience as he instead rushed forward to get the door.

Eyes was still there, her fur on end and meowing endlessly. All she knew was that her friend was afraid and scared, and the aspect of freedom was far from her mind as she instead started rubbing up against Daryl even before they stepped inside the house.

There she started to lead them to the safe room, her tail always touching against Daryl's leg in an attempt to lead him to the stairs.

Rick could already feel the wet that dripped onto his shirt, but he had to first get Daryl settled inside. It had been a long time since an episode as bad as this, and he had to keep his focus on getting Daryl to safety as soon as possible.

Carl stayed at the top of the stairs, knowing that this was one place that he was not allowed to go. The safe room was the one place that was removed from the rest of the world, the only peace they could give to Daryl.

Reaching into his pocket, he fished out his key, one of two that led to the room. Daryl held the other one. He could feel it on the necklace he wore when he knew he may need the safe room. Knowing that they were the only two able to come in helped prove the safety, even when Daryl couldn't fathom the fact at this point.

The key slid into the lock, turning once to unlock the door. Already, Eyes was starting to push against the door with her paws, aiding in opening it for her human.

Immediately he was washed with the scent of vanilla, his eyes adjusting to the near permanent darkness. There were very few lights, and only one was on. Knowing the layout better than himself, Rick carefully weaved himself past furniture and shut the door behind him.

"We're inside, Daryl. We're safe."

Eyes meowed in agreement, soon resuming in rubbing herself against Daryl's legs.

"Do you want the bed? How about something to eat?"

Eyes meowed again. I wasn't asking you, cat. You always want to eat.

The only response was Daryl pushing his head deeper into Rick's chest and the shivering of his broad shoulders. The bed it is then.

The room was small and cramped, not at all like what Rick had expected Daryl to want. He had thought that having windows and plenty of light would be best, but when he left Daryl to situate the room to his liking, he came to find the exact opposite.

There were things on the floor, but Rick could not touch them or clean them up. Numerous blankets were tossed onto the plush couch that looked to the small TV, and there was a bookshelf that instead held boxes of food. There was chocolate, packages of tea, more chocolate, any kind of comfort Daryl wished.

The bed was the main attraction, sitting in the corner of the room. It was where the blankets were piled up nearly a foot high, and as he slowly sat Daryl down onto the bed, he began the process of collecting the blankets.

The blue one first. That was the one they laid on when they had gone camping while they were still dating. The thick tan one was next, their blanket from the bed at their old home. Then came the purple, the green, and then he carefully pulled the baby blue over Daryl's covered shoulders. The blanket that Carl had come home in when he was born from their surrogate.

Already Daryl's shaking hands grabbed onto one of the corners, further cocooning himself within the layers, before pulling the baby blanket in with him.

As if now seeing that Daryl was properly cocooned and was now allowed to interact, the black mop of fur jumped immediately onto the plush bed and started to pick her way through the layers of blankets. Only once she found the center where Daryl lied did she worm her way beneath the blankets and then resting beneath his chin, giving off enough purrs to almost rattle the bed.

"You know what to do if you need me, right? I'll be right outside, okay? I won't let anyone come in."

It took a few moments, but he finally was given a nod in return. It was his signal to leave, to let Daryl slowly come back from the episode. He had what he needed, and he needed to be alone.

There was a phone sitting atop the nightstand beside the bed, specifically for these situations. If he would need anything at all, he just needed to buzz Rick, no matter what it could possibly be.

"...Okay. I love you, sweetheart." There wasn't a response, but he didn't expect one. But just in case, he reached back to the bookshelf and slid out a chocolate bar from a box and set it atop the nightstand, then placed a bottle of water beside it.

By the time he had turned around and started walking for the door, he could already hear the hesitant unwrapping of the chocolate bar. Barely able to contain the smile that had managed to slip onto his face, he slid his way out of the door and closed it behind him, locking it.

It was thankful that they had invested in soundproof walls. He was sure Daryl would not be proud of him for what he was about to do.

Tearing his way up the stairs, Rick's eyes lit with a fresh fire. If only he could be on duty right now, to act out punishment on the brat that had done this to his love, to the man that he cherished more than this entire earth...

The screen door was still open at this point, but he paid it no mind. It only made certain that there would be nothing in his way.

Nothing except for the commanding voice that throbbed through his ears.

"Boy, what in the name of Joseph were you trying to do?!"

"I-I just... He always gets mad when..."

"Do you have _any_ idea what you just did?"

"B-but he was going to _kill_ me!"

"I don't give a monkey's left nut if he came after you with a rocket launcher!"

The voices were clearer than daylight as Rick came to a stop just at the doorway, leaning over to see the slight crowd of people. Carl was within their own back yard, probably to attempt to fix the flowers but had stopped. Most were surrounding the fences, others trying to stay a distance back to look less noticable. But one was standing right in front of the boy who had so carelessly hurt his lover.

Abraham.

He was practically looming over Ron, who was now beginning to shrink from the authoritive voice that easily covered over his own whining. His face was nearly as red as his hair, and he looked more angry than Rick had ever seen before in his life.

"Let me tell you a little somethin' 'bout the endless shit you don't know. You like this place? You like growing up in the U S of fucking A? Like being able to go down the street without getting yourself flayed so hard your asshole catches on fire?"

No response. The entire area had gone silent at this point. Abraham hardly skipped a beat.

"You got Daryl to thank for that. Because while you and your little nut brother and mama sit back here drinking iced tea and playing your _Pokemans_ , people like Daryl are out risking everything to make sure you have a nice place to sleep at night."

Abraham paused, allowing the moment to sink in, before he stood back up straight.

"Now believe me, I've seen enough shit out there to drown a desert, but that is _nothing_ compared to what we come home with. Every single fucking day you carry the shit you saw like a shit-stained poncho. And while Daryl deserve to have the mother-loving rest he has earned, you have to shit in his Cheerios. You can't let a man who fought for you have any peace. No, you gotta remind him of the shit by throwing bombs in his face."

Abraham's voice was starting to drop from the yelling, instead turning into a much more serious tone.

"...I've seen good men off themselves because of the shit they can't stop seeing. The real psycho is the whiny brat who takes the time we should be celebratin' what has been done to earn our freedom and torments a war hero."

Ron hadn't uttered a word at this point, still shaking and crouched down to the ground. But for once, he seemed to be listening, and Jessie hadn't shoved her ass into intervining like she normally did.

"...Now put those damn ass fireworks away. If you gotta blow shit up, do it at the park where everyone else does it, or wait for the show tonight. And if I so much as see a whisker of those again, I'll take you to the cops myself. Am I clear?"

"...Y-yes..."

"I said, am I clear, soldier?!"

"..Y-yes!"

"Now go back inside with your mama, and be thankful off your ass that Rick didn't bust a cap in your ass."

There was an eerie silence for a few awkward moments, until the crowd started to disperse. The show was over, Abraham was already leaving for his house across the street, and Jessie was ushering her kids inside. Doors closed behind people as normal life resumed just as it had before.

It was then that Rick awkwardly cleared his throat, gaining the attention of Carl who still was knelt into the broken plants. "...Come inside. I'll clean them up tomorrow," was his soft command, and Carl did as he was told.

Halfway through the doorway though, Rick couldn't help but reach out and tussle with Carl's hair. "...And if you repeat even a quarter of those words you heard, you'll have to answer to him next."

He caught the slight paleness of his son's face and then the flurry of nods. With barely another moment, Carl rushed his way into the house. He was such a good kid...

Maybe he would think about getting a dog after all. Probably not Great Dane sized, but... something.

* * *

"I swear if you cry again, I'm kicking you out."

Popcorn was flung across the couch, hitting Daryl square in the jaw which only caused a flurry of chuckles. "You can't look at that and tell me that's not the most heartwarming thing you've seen!" Rick responded, flailing his hands towards the TV, with _How to Train your Dragon 2_ paused right at the touching reunion of Hiccup's parents.

"Then you can't say shit about when Mufasa dies!"

"Daryl, you cry when any animal dies!"

"You didn't tell me Old Yeller _dies_ at the end!"

"Oh my god, Daryl. You cannot tell me you've never even heard of what happened to Old Yeller before that. What, you don't know what happens to Marley either?"

"...What the fuck happens to Marley?!"

More popcorn was flung across the couch, landing more onto the floor than at each other.

It had been an hour since Carl had gone to bed after they all watched the firework show from their backyard. It was one of the few instances that Daryl was moderately alright since the fireworks were not surprises and he could ready himself. Last year they had been too busy with Daryl coming home to even consider seeing the fireworks.

It hadn't been long, though, for other homes to start firing their fireworks, and even though Daryl insisted that he was fine, they had agreed to go downstairs anyway to wait out the night.

What had started out as a possibly romantic night curled up on the couch together had turned into a popcorn war and a race to see who wouldn't cry at sad parts in a movie. Daryl had already lost with Mufasa's death, and Rick was still trying to hold back tears and failing.

Only after the scene had passed did the two stop behaving like children and once again curl up onto the couch. Blankets were curled around them as Rick settled into his previous position on laying against Daryl's chest, and the scent of vanilla was attempting to lull them to sleep. Any plans of romancing the other seemed to be on hold for the night.

Giving out a sigh, Rick closed his eyes and curled deeper into Daryl's radiating warmth. He rested there for a moment, listening to the movie with only part of his attention while the rest went to the heartbeat pulsing beneath his cheek.

An arm soon curled around his shoulders, nudging him closer to where Rick's head rested beneath Daryl's chin and he could feel his husband's breath brushing against his hair.

"...Love you, Daryl," was the soft murmur, followed by Rick feeling lips touch his head.

"Love you, too, crybaby."

"...Oh come on. Do I have to bring up _Where the Red Fern Grows_? Again?"

A chuckle brushed his hair, then another kiss. "Alright, alright..." Daryl sighed, soon curling his other arm around Rick to properly let Rick lay onto his body.

It was for moments like these that everything was worth it. The therapy sessions, the flashbacks, the panic, the constant worry of when he was away... Even if the path they had chosen was hard, Rick still would not trade it in for anything.

Until of course he felt paws suddenly ram into his ribs, Eyes jumping up to join them on the couch.

"God damn it," Rick hissed softly, forcing himself to lay onto his stomach to allow a flat surface for the cat to lay down.

It was a necessary evil, that cat... But he couldn't help but feel like they owed so much to her. They owed so much to each other.

Lips touched to his head again and he listened to Daryl letting out a soft sigh of bliss. Yes, it was still worth it... And as Rick finally settled into his lover's arms to rest away another July 4th, he couldn't help but think of how lucky they both were. They had crossed another hazard together, and even if the days ahead were always uncertain, they would have each other.

...And Carl.

...And Eyes.

...And maybe a dog.


End file.
